Resurrection
by sevenofmine
Summary: Sherlock is called to help the MI6 investigation of a bank robbery when his name appears on a note left by the robbers. It doesn't take long for the new team to figure out that only Silva or Moriarty could be responsible. Both are thought dead, but what their archenemies already performed so well, they are also able to do: Resurrection. R-Rating. 007/Q, Sherlock/Q, Moriarty/Silva
1. The Spider's web needs its Spider back

„He managed to fake his death, I managed to fake mine. It's as easy as that," he said.

The other man laughed. "Really?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, I thought about the same."

"Tell me about him," the first man asked.

"He's so sweet, behaving like a child sometimes, but he's clever…oh, he's so smart."

"What does he look like?"

"He's absolutely adorable. Black, curly hair, light green eyes, pale skin and so pronounced cheeks."

"Wow."

"Oh yeah."

"How did he fake his death?"

"Suicide. He fell off a building. I'm still figuring out how he did this."

"How did you fake your death?"

"Suicide," the man with the dark brown hair answered and smiled at the other one. "You didn't?"

"No…he stabbed me with a knife," he laughed.

"How did he die?"

"He got shot…by a fellow agent."

"She was a lousy shooter, I assume?"

"Well, now she's MI6 secretary," the man laughed and came closer. "So…what did you plan for afterlife?" the blonde man asked with his Spanish accent.

"Haven't thought much about it. I've had such a perfect network…every twine is working for me. Do you know how long it took me to establish it?"

"Oh, I know what you're talking about. I had been an agent…it took ages to get rid of my actual identity and proof that I wasn't working for the government anymore."

"What about your men? What happened to them?"

"Other bosses."

"Just going whichever way the wind blows. Shouldn't they learn that this is no form of treating your boss?"

The blonde man laughed. "Yeah…you didn't come off better, did you?"

"The net is not yet destroyed. It just needs a spider to watch its prey. I can't be the spider anymore. But with my help…you could become more than you ever dreamed of…in Europe and the United States of course. I'm not talking about Far East where everything is allowed as long as you bribe the right men."

"Isn't it what you used to do?"

"Yes, and it worked…but not as easily as you might think."

"Oh, I'm not thinking about anything right now," the blonde guy whispered and touched the other man's cheek. "So…where should we start?" he asked and bent forward.

"Showing our archenemies that we can do as well what they did. And that it is our time for resurrection," the brown-haired man answered and responded the kiss.

**Please review.**


	2. Sherlock

Chapter 1

"We have a new case," John said and looked up from his mobile phone.

"Is it interesting?" asked Sherlock uninterested and continued staring out of the window, or rather, on the curtains.

"Well...Lestrade says that MI6 requested your help."

"MI6?" Sherlock said and looked at him. "Haven't we been helping them enough? Isn't any secret service able to solve any case on their own...what happened?" he sighed.

"Three men were found dead in front of their headquarters this morning."

"And?"

"Those men have earlier worked for a criminal called 'Silva'. But the strange thing is that all three men seems to have drowned, although none of them is soaked or anything similar."

"What did the Autopsy find?"

"Nothing yet...I assume...why?"

"Well, perhaps somebody wanted to make this case interesting...but failed. The water can be pumped into the lungs after death. They could have died due to any other method," Sherlock answered bored.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"Sherlock?"

"Just tell me what's up!"

"I don't know, you're just so twitchy again."

"It's the withdrawal. Now, don't we have an interesting case?"

"While you playing 'dead', have you started smoking again?"

"What if? Little time before I decided to come back, I changed to nicotine patches again. Satisfied?"

"No!"

"Is there any case?" Sherlock asked angrily.

Watson continued searching the web after he had finished his SMS to Lestrade. "Robbery of a bank in South London. Only two masked men stole three million Pounds."

"Good for them. But boring. Nothing police can't solve."

"They turned off the cameras and...hey, Lestrade's calling now." His mobile was ringing. "I wonder why he calls me and not you..." he said while pressing the green button. "Watson," he said and Sherlock stopped listening and continued staring out of the window.

A minute later Watson put the mobile back into his pocket. "This was Lestrade. He wants us at the crime scene."

"Of the three criminals?"

"No, of the bank robbery. He said there's something you should see."

"This is going to be boring," Sherlock muttered but stood up to search his coat and scarf.

* * *

"I'm glad you came, Sherlock and I still can't believe I just said this," Lestrade said and showed them the way to the crime scene of the robbery. "Two masked men with submachine guns come in, take all people hostage. One watches them while the other one is going down to the safe. It doesn't take a minute until he opens it and they both flee with the money before police even noticed the hostage situation."

"And why should this interest me?" Sherlock said and followed the officer while registering every movement in his environment.

"This isn't a normal bank. Their clients are for example the British government, the secret services, etcetera."

"Does this have anything to do with the three bodies that appeared this morning?" Watson asked, seemingly more interested in this 'case'.

"MI6 thinks so. They think of every possible solution anyway," Lestrade informed and they arrived at the basement. "It's around the corner, Sherlock," he said and stopped.

Watson didn't want to ask and just followed his friend through the corridor. There was a little room with an open door and they entered. Analysts were photographing the scene, searching for fingerprints or other hints.

"Have you found anything?"an old lady asked one of the men. He was staring at his laptop, for Sherlock it was obvious that he was trying to find a solution for how the two men managed to break open the safe within a few minutes.

The woman looked up. She was in charge here. "Mr. Holmes...and Mr. Watson. It's a pleasure to meet you. You are the persons we needed for this case. I'm M, head of MI6 division for special operations. Would you be so kind to take a look into the safe?" she introduced herself and the two men crossed the room.

When Sherlock looked around, his eyes met with those of the computer scientist. Suddenly, he reminded him a bit on himself, physically. He deleted that thought. They had nothing in common except for curly hair.

He was black haired, this MI6 scientist brown haired, glasses, brown eyes. No similarity but there was something with him, that made Sherlock feel awkward.

Did he remind him of someone?

No, it was something stronger, more intensive.

Something he didn't know. He turned back to the safe and froze.

It was empty except for a word sprayed at the wall of it.

"Sherlock," Watson muttered.

"I can read as well," Sherlock answered and tried to think about who would be able to do that, breaking into a bank, obviously for just leaving a message.

The only person he could think of was Moriarty but Moriarty was long dead, suicide...but he committed 'suicide' as well and was still alive.

No, something wasn't right here.

Moriarty was dead and nobody could awake the dead. This must be sadistic joke.

Or someone else playing with him.

**Please comment.**


	3. Computer Department

Chapter 2

While Watson was trying to store all the information and views he got, Sherlock only focused on the main important things. M's secretary, Eve, a nice lady, Watson thought, led them through the new headquarters.

He learned that about half a year ago, a bomb had exploded in the actual headquarters and after the responsible criminal died, they re-moved to the new building.

You could truly seen where the new parts were built, because it looked quite modern here. They went down to the cellar. Ms. Moneypenny, the secretary just received an SMS and stopped.

"Our computer department is at the end of the corridor. I'm sorry, but I'm needed upstairs," she explained.

Watson thanked and the two detectives walked on. "Wow, this is exciting," Watson muttered. "We're in the MI6 headquarters!"

"Fascinating," Sherlock said ironically and Watson didn't respond, knowing it had no sense arguing with the super-genius.

They entered and recognized the computer scientist at the end of the room. He looked up and they came over. "Hello. We hadn't had time at the crime scene to introduce ourselves. I'm Q," he said and they shook hands.

Watson slowly got used to the fact that they barely encountered real names. The boss was M, this guy was Q...did they use the whole alphabet in here? "I'm John Watson...and this is Sherlock Holmes," he said and they shook hands.

"I've read a lot about you," Q answered, obviously fascinated by Sherlock.

Watson waited for a moment, but finally tried to break their eye contact between Q and Sherlock: "So...have you found out something so far?"

"Ah, yes," Q answered a bit confused and turned back to his computer.

Sherlock and Watson went around the table to have a better look.

"The safe was easy to open for them, they have first disabled all security systems. This is awkward because the cameras still worked. They were Joker masks like you can buy in every carnival shop."

"How did they so easily get down the security system?" Watson asked surprised.

"Not a lot of hackers can do that. It shows that they either have skills or know people who have such skills. Any idea?" Q asked Sherlock.

"No," the detective responded slowly, staring on the computer screen. He felt the same awkward thing like at the crime scene. He tried to sort his thoughts, but something distracted him from this case.

This look of Q when they had met. Like the first time. He had so wonderful brown eyes, so glooming.

"What about the videos of the surveillance cameras?" Watson eventually asked when he saw that Sherlock was distracted by something else.

"Yes," the scientist answered and with a few mouse clicks he showed it. You could see the bank's entry hall in black and white. People were walking around until suddenly two men entered the building and shot three times into the air.

Everybody lay down on the ground and the guy with dark brown hair, as much as Watson guessed stayed there and kept an eye on the hostages, while the other man, longer hair, probably blonde, went out of sight.

"Here you can see this man in the corridors. He has a cell phone, probably a radio with which he can open the safe door due to the right combination. In the safe itself there're no cameras," Q explains.

A few seconds later, the man came out again, his bag filled and suddenly the cameras all went offline. "That's it," he said and switched back to the analysis of the computer code. "The code is simple, I could have hacked it myself. Do you know any enemies who are skilled in this topic, Mr. Holmes?"

"Only one," Sherlock said. "And he died a long time ago."

"Are you sure? A friend of mine pretended his death-"

"He committed suicide in front of my eyes!"

"Well, and you committed suicide in front of _my_ eyes and still live," Watson commented.

Q looked confused from one to the other.

"I'm sure he's dead," Sherlock confirmed. His light green eyes were glooming nearly his pale skin was even paler than usual.

"The only person I know died half a year ago as well," Q muttered. "But I'll have a look in the right communities," he answered.

Watson nodded and just received a text message. "It's Mycroft. He says he's back in London and wants me upstairs. Any idea why he isn't calling you?"

"Perhaps because I didn't answer his last SMS'..." Sherlock mentioned and watched Watson leaving. "How many people on this world are able to break this code?" he asked Q and came closer to have a better look on the screen.

"Except for a criminal called Silva, who died, then your 'Moriarty', only me and a very few other guys."

"Do you know some of them?" Sherlock asked seriously.

"Do you really think that I have contact with criminal hackers?" Q asked a bit surprised but also ironical.

The Detective smiled and the scientist answered his question: "I've written those I know. None of those who responded is responsible."

"Or they are and don't tell an MI6 forensic scientist."

"I'm not that stupid to tell them who I am," Q muttered and smiled at Sherlock. His brown eyes are so remarkable under the glasses, Sherlock thought and smiled back.

"Then we excluded all possibilities we think of. The other one must be the solution."

"You mean one of them is alive?"

"One of our archenemies, yes."

"Well, actually he's not my archenemy but one of our agents."

"007."

"Exactly. You had access to the files?"

"Yes...are you sure you never had contact with him?"

"Never personal contact. But he hacked into the MI6 agency and...he wrote me a message."

"A message?"

"When he escaped from the facility because I have accidently opened his holding cell, he told me I weren't 'Such a clever boy'."

"A message can often be more personal than contact," Sherlock figured. He had this awkward feeling being alone with this man in a room.

"Are you sure?" Q asked and his face came closer to Sherlock's.

"Not really...," the Detective said. There was something he has never felt before and it definitely was not being unsure about a theory.

And before they both knew what happened, their lips touched and formed an incredibly long and intensive kiss. This _was_ what he has never felt before...something he has never missed but it felt so intense and intimate.

He closed his eyes and felt the scientist's hand on his shoulder. When he opened them again, they stared at each other for a moment and they detached themselves from each other.

They stood there for a while, just looking into the other one's eyes, without expression, without saying anything.

Suddenly they heard the door open but none of them turned around to see who was there. It wasn't necessary.

"Did I...miss something?" Watson asked and entered the room, followed by Mycroft who didn't look very happy with the circumstances of the governmental security breach.

"N-no," Sherlock said and turned around to face his friend and his older brother.

Q returned to the computer and seemed typing another message to his contacts.

"Okay," Watson said unsure how to continue or respond to that situation. He had no idea what has just happened between those to geniuses and just thought that it might have been an intellectual battle that he definitely didn't want to know about.

"Any progress with the case?" Mycroft interrupted the doctor's thoughts and walked over to his brother.

"No. We have no idea who might have hacked into the system but it had to be a profi," Q answered and showed them the code on the computer. "All people we think of are dead. And the dead can't hack the government's bank."

He didn't know how wrong he was with that.

**Please review.**


	4. Progress

Chapter 4

It was the next day and Sherlock and Watson returned to the new MI6 headquarters where they were already awaited by Mycroft and M in her office. "Did we miss something?" Watson asked when he looked into the faces of them.

"There're another three men dead. They were undercover stationed in the Near-East but their identity was exposed. We already have had a security leak only half a year ago and we have no idea how it could happen again," M explained with a concerned face. She had only escaped very closely both death and retirement and she didn't want a repetition of events.

"Somebody must have hacked into the government's computer system. No terroristic group or organisation has yet claimed participation in the events," Mycroft explained.

Watson nodded surprised but Sherlock's face stayed hard as a stone, like always. Actually, he just needed to hide how he actually felt. He had lain awake very long last time without finding any solution to his 'feelings', rather a defect of hormones, endorphins and adrenaline flow.

"With other words you have no idea who could have done this?" Watson asked.

"We both totally agree that we only know few people who would be able to do this. Two of them are dead, three in prison and we lost track of the other one, but we doubt that he has something to do with it," M explained.

"What about someone new?" the doctor asked. He side-looked to Sherlock who seemed to stare outside the window.

"Perhaps my dear brother would also like to join the conversation?" Mycroft smiled at his younger sibling who turned to them again.

"I don't believe there's someone new. I think we miss something, new enemies don't appear out of nowhere. Sure this...Silva died half a year ago?"

"Yeah...although one month ago his body went missing...," M suddenly looked alarmed. "But there's no possibility that he's alive."

"I thought the same when I saw Sherlock falling from the hospital roof," Watson added.

"I'll inform the computer department to start a Kingdom wide search," the boss of the MI6 division said.

"Oh, we'll go down there and have a look as well," Sherlock informed and nodded to Watson who followed him without argument out of the room.

"Why do we go down to the science lab again?" Watson asked when they waited for the lift.

"I think it is our only possibility where to start searching. After what I've read about Silva, he was quite good with computers and also tricked Q."

"Do you really think Silva is still alive?"

"Do you really think a super genius like him, although so obsessed with his former boss M, doesn't have a Plan B?" Sherlock said annoyed about the less intelligent and far-thinking Watson.

The doctor just ignored the glance and they stepped out on the corridor of the second basement. They kept silence until they arrived at the office. It was again Q alone in there, after the recent attacks on the government, even computer scientists were in different departments to help there out improving the security system, like installing new programs on the agent's computers.

Q looked up and smiled slightly when he saw them. Now, he thought, we only need to find a way to get rid of Watson again. "It seems that whoever helped exposing those secret agents has gained a lot of recognition in the internet. He had uploaded some videos of the execution, obviously filmed by illegal cameras. We know that he has influence and knows a lot about computers. I saw the pattern of the different hacks and to be honest, the scheme only matches to Silva," Q explained, not knowing whether to look at the detectives or his screen.

"But I'd like to ask agent Bond if he might think that Silva tricked him...again," the scientist added.

He's very shy, Sherlock thought and immediately used the chance. "Excellent idea. Watson, would you search this agent then? I'd really like to have a second opinion," he said.

"When you need a second opinion, why don't you ask him yourself?" Watson asked.

"Well, I'm going to have a look on how the enemy – likely that Silva-guy – entered the secret service's firewall. You can surely do that as well but I doubt that you understand a line of the script, do you?"

Watson didn't respond but quickly left the room so that the two nerds could be alone. It was some kind of awkward, he thought, that Sherlock liked the work of Q, perhaps because he saw another super-genius of his level in him.

Sherlock turned back to the scientist, not knowing what to say. His light-green eyes were examining his beautiful skin and how he was desperately trying to find the source of the attacks. Sherlock walked over next to Q.

He didn't know how to start and it really was the first time for him to be actually speechless. "Listen," he muttered, but had no idea how to continue. He breathed deeply and looked into Q's wonderful eyes.

He took down his glasses and looked embarrassed on the desk. "I...I'm sorry," he muttered.

"You don't need to be...It was...me...I," Sherlock stammered. He should have borrowed John's laptop more often, he thought, then he would rather know what to say now.

"You...haven't had a lot of relationships yet? That's what I've heard," Q said silently. His hand was trembling.

Sherlock noticed that and grabbed to hold it. "I had never had any," he answered and moved closer to Q.

"I heard...you...aren't interested in...anybody. You're sociopathic, married to your work and..." Q helplessly tried to explain himself but Sherlock shook his head. "If I weren't interested in anybody...why have we kissed?" he whispered. "And why have I liked it then so much?" he breathed, hardly spoke.

Without hesitation, he then pressed his lips again on Q's like it had so easily happened before. It was something so new to him, but an experience that it was worth it.

He sensed the warmth of Q's hand in his own, he felt the soft lips the scientist and saw the cute look of his dark brown eyes. They stopped and looked at each other, breathed hardly, not knowing what to do or how to continue.

But they just bent forward again and kissed each other intensively. Sherlock felt Q's hand on his cheek, it was such a tender movement he hardly knew.

Has John been right? That he had been too focused on the work to notice what actually matters and happens around him. This feeling was so confusing, the idea of depending on someone else was kind of strange.

But on the other hand, it felt so good feeling the warm hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes and for the first time in his life, enjoyed a moment where he was actively doing something and not just staring at a corpse. This time, it was _him_ who could control the arousal but right now he didn't want to control anything, just feel it, feel what he hasn't felt before.

He had always taken along that it was normal for him to be insensible but actually he had never met _the right one _before. It was funny, Watson always searched the right woman, but how right was it with Q?

He had no idea if this situation he was in, was normal, if he was really in love with Q or was it something normal when meeting a cute boy.

Sherlock didn't want to think about it, just act without having a second thought and he already missed Q's lips when they were again staring into each other's eyes, speechless, afraid to start talking, not knowing what had to be said.

Finally, Sherlock decided to start: "I...you must understand, I've never..."

But Q lay his finger on Sherlock's mouth. He went silent and got lost in the brown ocean of his eyes.

"What about dinner tonight?" Q asked. He was so shy, his voice was low and the hand which wasn't held by Sherlock still trembled.

"Okay," Sherlock said in his so deep voice and nodded uncertain, before he added: "Q...you know, I haven't had anyone before and I don't want everybody to know already that..."

"You have a date? The untouchable Sherlock Holmes has a date?" Q teased and managed to smile.

Sherlock nodded. "There's an Indian restaurant in front of my house. I'll get the meals and we'll eat at my house and 'go through the case again', alright?"

"Yes," the detective answered, still lost in Q's so wonderful eyes. He seemed melting away and tried to get himself back into reality, a problem he had never had before. He actually liked the cruelty of reality.

"Be at my house at nine," Q said.

"Watson's coming back," Sherlock responded suddenly and they backed off just a second before the door swung open. "Have you found out something?" Sherlock asked before Watson could say anything.

"Er...no. Bond is absolutely sure that Silva died. He killed him himself."

"And Eve also thought that she'd killed James," Q mentioned.

"And I thought you died," Watson added towards Sherlock. He seemed to be lost in thoughts again, but now concerning the case.

"What if Silva was still alive...if nothing possible is leading anywhere, we have to go for the less possible solution. So Silva comes back...but he isn't alone. He must be working together with one of my archenemies, therefore it became that personal," the detective said.

"Or he just needs a new guy in the playground," Watson commented.

"Nah...I don't think so," Sherlock said and left the room.

Watson looked confused at Q who shrugged his shoulders and then followed his friend.

**Please comment.**


	5. Q's flat

Chapter 5

It was evening and Sherlock was glad that Watson had decided to go out this night. So he felt like when he was about to meet The Woman, just that he actually was a bit nervous now. It was a thrilling sensation to actually have feelings and he wondered why only now he has become aware of them. On the other hand, he never wanted to feel, be sentimental and weak and he had never missed anything.

But there was something about Q that turned him even more on than the most bloody and complicated murder he could imagine. He decided to wear is long black coat and scarf again, he was never good at dressing up. It was getting dark when he left the house and entered the taxi. Q was not living far from Bakerstreet but Sherlock didn't like the idea of eventually getting seen wandering around at night.

So he left the taxis a few streets earlier and tried to keep his head down while walking the last hundred meters. He rang the bell and only two seconds later, Q opened the door.

He looked pretty nervous as well, Sherlock saw this within the first glance.

"Hello," he said and Sherlock entered his flat. It wasn't big and typical for a scientist.

"I just bought dinner," Q said and smiled.

* * *

"It is working," Moriarty stated and looked at the computer.

"Wonderful," Silva muttered and put his hand around Moriarty's shoulders. He kissed his cheeks and sat down on the chair next to him.

"But I doubt that Sherlock is working on the case as fast as he usually does. It seems as if the stone-hearted one finally found someone," Moriarty answered and showed Silva a video on the computer. "I installed a few cameras in Q's flat. See yourself," he explained and Silva watched the live-stream of Q's kitchen.

He recognized the scatty computer expert with the usually unemotional detective sitting opposite to each other and obviously talking about something that even brought Sherlock to smile. "Aren't they cute?" Silva asked and kissed Moriarty on his cheek.

"I wished it was me down there," he answered.

"Yeah, Q's so sweet..."

"I meant Sherlock," the brown-haired guy answered and smiled back at Silva.

* * *

***Little while later in Q's flat***

"I'm so sorry to drag you into this," Q sobbed and Sherlock put his arm around his shoulder.

"It's okay," he whispered with his deep and scary voice into his ear. They were both sitting on the couch in the living room.

Sherlock reached out for a handkerchief and gave it to Q.

"Thanks," he muttered and whipped away the many tears that had started to run down his cheek. "You can't understand me, right?" he asked.

Sherlock moved closer to the other man. "No...but I'd love to," he said with the most alluring voice he ever had.

Q nodded. "I loved James...he's such a man. He was so nice to me."

"I've met him shortly. How long have you been together?" Sherlock asked, trying not to maintain his careless voice.

"Since he returned back from Skyfall, over half a year."

"What happened at Skyfall?"

"He and M killed a man called Silva. M nearly died and returned to MI6 only five weeks ago. James killed Silva...although his body was never found...actually."

"This is funny. Moriarty's body disappeared suddenly as well," the black-haired man noticed.

Q started to weep again and Sherlock pressed him closer to his body. "Everything's alright. You're too good for Bond...have you...what happened?"

"Well...I wanted to tell him that there was...another one. He figured it out...that it was you..."

"Well, I might never figure out what you see in me," Sherlock cawed with his rough voice.

"You're so...your cheeks are so pronounced and your pale skin...you always wear black...and your eyes..." Q whispered and their faces nearly touched.

Sherlock could see the beauty of Q's eyes which were melting away looking at him. "I love you," Sherlock said in such a low voice that anybody standing farer away than the scientist wouldn't have heard a word.

"I love you, too," the shy boy answered with a slight smile and pressed his lips on Sherlock's mouth.

Gently and kissing, Sherlock pushed Q down on the couch and crawled onto his small and soft body. He started to open his shirt and threw it on the floor.

"Forget Bond...now, you're mine," Sherlock whispered and while continuing the kiss he opened Q's trousers and removed his own clothes.

"I don't know what I'd have done without you," Q muttered and slowly turned around.

Sherlock lay down on the brown-haired man's back and started massaging his shoulders. "Me neither," he whispered into his ear and his hand moved through Q's wild hair.

Without saying more he finally moved the lower parts of his body and in a romantic and common tact they moved their pelvises back and forward. Eventually Sherlock sank down on Q again, hiding his head in the scientist's wild hair.

They were both breathing heavily and nobody said a word. Q moved a bit aside so that Sherlock could lie down half on and half next to him.

"Have you ever done this before?" Q asked, still breathing deeply.

Sherlock looked at him. He hesitated for a moment but then answered: "No." He stared back at the wall but then asked "What?" when he saw Q smiling.

"Nothing...I just never thought that a handsome man like you never had had anyone before...or not the need to share his privacy?"

"The latter."

"Such a shame."

"But my days as a virgin are long over now," Sherlock answered and curled back onto Q's chest.

* * *

"Are you coming, honey?" Moriarty asked from the bedroom.

"Just a second," Silva answered and shut down the computer. He walked over to Jim and sat down at the bed.

"When are we going to _burn_ them?" he the blonde man said and opened his shirt.

"Soon...very soon," Jim answered when Silva crawled onto the man's body and started kissing his cheeks, neck and chest nipples.

**Please review.**


	6. Alive

Chapter 6

It was a late evening when Bond decided to go out again. He has been sitting in his apartment, thinking about Q and Sherlock, probably spending their night together. His relationship with Q hadn't lasted long and it had always been a risk and adventure to meet as they have never wanted M to find out.

Q was rather a shy guy, he appeared like that, but he could become quite sentimental and knew what he liked and wanted. They've gotten along really well and it has hurt James that Q has broken up with him so quickly.

After a few hours of anger and pain, Bond decided that he needed a distraction. And would could be a better distraction than a Friday night in London's downtown?

So he was now walking down the streets and decided that he didn't want to give himself in pain away to the low-quality offers that were awaiting him in the cellar and hookah bars. He entered his favourite pub and sat down at the bar, ordering a Martini.

He could actually use something stronger but he wasn't in the mood for immediately been thrown out. He received his drink and paid for it, now eating the little olive and licking the toothpick lost in thoughts.

Sherlock was said to be a sociopath, lonely and not very friendly to anybody. Was he really the right companion for Q? He could be so shy, so tender and so soft and James had so often feared to easily break him with all his muscles and weight.

He looked up when he suddenly noticed someone new entering the bar. It was John Watson, the 'friend' of Sherlock. His first thought had been that they were a couple but he has heard the contrary, they were just good friends.

Good for Q, he thought and sighed when he waved John over. They have changed a few words before because John and his 'friend' helped investigating the newest break-in, and he found him quite sympathetic. They greeted and John sat down next to James, ordering a beer.

"So, how's the investigation going?" James asked interested and sipped his Martini.

"Oh, not so good," John answered. "There not many people who are able to do that and most that we can think of are dead already." John had a look around. It wasn't often that he came here and he felt a bit nervous.

So while he was staring outside the window, a cab reminding him on his first case with Sherlock, he did not notice how desperate James put something into his drink. James smiled to himself. What would make Q more envious than spending a night with the best friend of his new boyfriend?

* * *

"How are you?" Q whispered and crawled onto the pale body of the other man which was shining in the moonlight that came in through a window of the bedroom.

"Much better," Sherlock answered, still heavily breathing and kissing Q's wild hair. "Who do you think has been able to break into the security systems?"

"Do you always think about work?" Q looked up into his wonderful green eyes. He leaned a bit forward and started kissing him again. He hasn't felt such soft lips in a long while and Sherlock could be so tender and nice, even without effort like James.

"I...am married to my work, Q...I," Sherlock started and fondled the dark-brown curly hair.

"Not tonight. Not for now," Q answered and pulled Sherlock down to crawl onto him again. "I love you, Sherlock, and there's nothing I can deny," he whispered and kissed his mouth, his chin, his neck and down to chest nipples.

The black-haired's hand glided down on the back of Q and he didn't know what to response. "Listen..."

"You don't have to say anything. I know you aren't prepared, but we never are," the scientist answered and started to give Sherlock head.

* * *

John did not remember much. He knew he was stoned but he actually didn't really want to think about what has happened. It was not the fact that he ended up awaking in a foreign room with 007 to his left, it was the fact that he smiled at agent and felt so strange but – good, finally being with someone again.

He has tried with so many women and all of them have left him – partly he claimed Sherlock, but only partly. Bond put his arm around his wrist and they cuddled closer to each other.

"What have you done to me?" John muttered but somehow he wasn't even angry.

"I opened your eyes," Bond answered and kissed him again and again until John crawled onto the blonde man's chest.

* * *

When Q awoke, the first thing he heard was the silent breath of Sherlock aside him. He turned around and saw that he was staring at the ceiling, obviously couldn't sleep.

"What's up?" he ask and fondled his cheek softly. He was so cute, his pronounced cheekbones, the light green eyes, his dark curly hair that accented his face.

"I...have been thinking..."

"Obviously..."

Sherlock turned to him. "I think they're both alive."

"Who?"

"Silva and Moriarty," Sherlock answered.

Can he ever show his true feelings, the scientist thought. Always that neutral, sociopathic glance as if he was so cynical. I know your true interior, Sherlock, I know you. Suddenly, Sherlock sat up. Q rolled his eyes and his hand glided over the naked man's back.

"I think there're out there, waiting for us," he answered and got up from the bed.

Q had no choice but also take on his clothes as his friend was dressing. "Even if you're right, how will we find them?"

**Please leave me a short comment.**


	7. Couple

**Last chapter.**

Chapter 7

Q was hardly dressed when Sherlock already ran out of his flat. He rolled his eyes and while still putting his jacket on, he followed his love down the street.

Surprised that he didn't call a taxi, he ran after the detective and was glad that he had given up smoking a month ago. Out of breath, he nearly collided with him but was caught in his arms.

"Where're you going?" the scientist asked.

"I don't know," he answered and his hand glided through Q's dark hair to tidy it a bit. But Q's hair was hopeless. Sherlock reached in his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. "Moriarty once left me his phone number. Let's give it a try," he explained and searched his few contacts.

Q looked around. It must be around five o'clock in the morning. He heard Sherlock talking but he was walking a bit away. When he turned, he noticed that Sherlock's face has become even paler than usual.

"What's up?" Q asked.

Sherlock wanted to answer but couldn't. Q suddenly lost him out of his eyes. Everything went black and all he heard was a loud explosion that ended as sudden as it had begun. What followed were screams and the sound of falling debris and rubble. Q felt losing the ground under his feet and suddenly he was falling.

He landed on something very soft and shrieked stumbling backwards when he recognized the thing he had landed on as the body of a young woman. He was pulled aside and before he could see who had helped him, the earth started to rock again. Q just regained the control over his body and noticed that he was in a tube station.

The explosion must have destroyed the street and pavement above the underground station and he noticed other people, either standing on the debris and corpses or being buried under them. His shock was reflected in the faces of other survivors and those who were still on the normal streets. He heard gasps, screams and shouts and nearly had yelled when someone helped him up.

"Sherlock," he whispered and was astonished on how neutral his face still looked. They were both covered with dust and street fragments and Sherlock suddenly touched his jacket.

Q looked down and saw a six-inches-long piece of glass right inside his upper part of his body. "No..." he said silently and felt every drop of his blood that fell down on the ground.

He nearly broke down but Sherlock reached out and hold him.

Slowly, he put him down. "Everything's going to be alright," the detective whispered and removed Q's jacket.

"Pull it out," the scientist coughed and his white shirt was sprinkled red immediately.

"I can't. This still prevents you from bleeding to death," he answered in his low and rough voice. His eyes looked as worried and sad as shortly before pretending his death on the St. Bartholomew's hospital's roof.

"Okay...okay, this is going to hurt," Sherlock finally said.

"Tell me something I don't know," cried Q, knowing that he'd never swap jobs with Bond. He could hardly gasp when Sherlock pulled out the piece of glass together with a flood of blood. Immediately, he pressed his jacket on the wound.

Q closed his eyes, he couldn't see much anyway, he must have lost his glasses somewhere in the chaos. He heard other people screaming, and finally the sirens of police and medicals. Q had never thought he'd once be so happy to hear the alarm of an ambulance.

It took a little while until the emergency doctors have found a way down the stations as the escalators were filled with rubble and people crawling their way back upstairs. It was surprisingly empty and silent for a night in London, a city that never slept and never was dark.

A doctor kneed down opposite to Sherlock. "What happened?"

"This," Sherlock answered and pointed to the glass piece next to him. The doctor nodded and Q only sensed how he was lifted and brought away. He felt Sherlock's cold hand leaving his and suddenly he was so alone.

His vision became blurry and black but he must have already hallucinated as the last thing he saw was a silent tear running down Sherlock's cheek.

* * *

"How could it happen?" M asked and looked in the faces of the men standing helplessly in the same room. Mallory and Mycroft looked at each other. None of them had an answer. "How many dead?" she continued asking.

"Until now 47. Death toll is rising and 65 hospitalised already," Mycroft Holmes answered.

"They blew up thirteen underground stations at once, it is a wonder that there're so few injured," Mallory added.

"But still something we need to explain to the citizens," M said in the moment that Mycroft received an SMS.

"It was Moriarty...and Silva," he read out loud.

M and Mallory just looked at him, not able to say anything.

"I have no idea how my little brother figured that out. They're both dead," he explained.

"Obviously not," M answered and added to Mallory: "We'll send every agent and member of this agency on the streets to look out."

"They could be anywhere!"

"But they aren't. Silva wants to watch what he's doing and when he's blowing up London he wants a perfect view on it... Check all flights that are currently landing or starting in London."

Mallory nodded and left the room.

"Where is Sherlock?" she asked with a concerned look on her face.

"I don't know. But I'm pretty sure he hasn't figured out yet how to deactivate a localisation chip," Mycroft answered and a few second later raised an eyebrow: "He's at London's General."

"Then you should better visit him," M said with an ordering undertone. Mycroft sighed and left her office. He doubted that Sherlock was seriously injured. If Moriarty wanted him dead, he would have done it with more special effects.

* * *

"Who was it?" John asked when James returned and threw his mobile phone on the bed.

"Mallory. They're gathering all agents for searching hints for that Silva and Moriarty are still alive."

"Does this have to do anything with the ambulance sirens outside?"

"Just have a look out of the window," James suggested and put on his trousers.

"Oh my god, where's Sherlock?" John muttered and dialled his best friend's number. He immediately heard the loud noises in the background.

"I'm alright, John. Where are you?" he heard the unmistakable voice.

"I'm fine, I..."

"Where are you?"

"At home."

"No, you aren't. Mrs. Hudson just called me and was so excited that none of us were at home."

"Why aren't you?"

"I was searching Moriarty."

"All on your own?" "Yes, John. I'm a grown-up. That's what grown-ups do."

"You're at a hospital, right? I hear that in the background."

"I'm fine, John. Where are you?"

There was a long silence and suddenly, Sherlock was gone. "Idiot," John muttered and also started dressing. Together with James he left the house and his mobile beeped again.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" Sherlock asked while John stepped into James' car.

"No, what do you think about?"

"I'm thinking about the fact that you obviously spent your night in James Bond's house. And don't tell me you just drank beer together. I know you too good."

"And if? You were the one who told me it was okay."

"How?"

"How what?...He put me on drugs...listen, Sherlock, we have other problems to solve right now. For example, why the hell are you in a hospital?" John listened carefully but he heard only background noises and someone muttering something after which Sherlock said: "I gotta go."

* * *

Mycroft wasn't nervous when he entered the hospital. He has never felt close to his brother but he couldn't deny any feelings after his 'death' either. He watched the many hurt and injured people being brought from one room into the next one and it seemed like a hell of patients and doctors who were just called in.

It was useless to ask anyone, nobody cared for names tonight. So Mycroft started searching the corridors until he finally found Sherlock lonely staring out of the window in front of the door that lead to the emergency operating room. Mycroft was glad to see his brother alive, although he noticed that he was covered in dust and debris and that his black hair was now brown-grey.

He obviously hasn't had time to wash yet. He turned and Mycroft saw the pale face in the lights of the coloured screen at the opposite building. His face was pale under the dust, but there were red stripes across his cheeks and his nose seemed to be painted with brown colour.

"You should go down, they're vetting minor injuries in the first floor," he said.

"It doesn't hurt," the younger brother answered.

"Why are you here?" Mycroft askedand side-looked to the sign 'operating theatre'.

"I could ask you the same. You're not that pathetic to think I could have been hurt by the explosions."

"But you were. Where?"

"Granborough Central Station," Sherlock answered.

"Why were you there?"

"I've been looking for Moriarty."

"Neither do I believe you nor would that be a reason to turn up here."

"It is silent up here."

"Who's in there?" Mycroft asked and pointed at the door. "When I asked downstairs they said they're only letting few people pass."

"You said you don't believe me that I was hunting Moriarty, why?" Sherlock asked suspiciously.

"Moriarty and Silva are both dead."

"Really?" he said ironically.

"Not what you think. They've been aboard a flight towards Moscow. The airplane exploded over Dortmund, Germany," he answered.

"Do you really think so?" Sherlock answered and turned back to the window. His nose did really hurt but he needed to know what happened to Q. He already was about twenty minutes in the operating room. The wound had been far deeper than suggested and it had been closely above the left kidney.

"No, our agents are continuing their search but we think that they won't return."

"Who thinks so?" Sherlock wanted to know.

"M, and Mallory agrees."

"Of course he agrees. The two are having an affair."

"It is great that you always know that much about other people's relationships," Mycroft said teasingly.

"John slept with James Bond...and you obviously slept alone for a long time," Sherlock said and turned back to his brother.

Mycroft licked his lips and didn't respond. "At least I know—"

But before he could finish his sentence, the doors were opened and a doctor entered the corridor.

"How is he?" Sherlock asked.

"He'll survive. But he lost a lot of blood and he'll be under observation within the next few hours. We brought him to the second floor."

"Thank you," the detective answered and without caring for Mycroft, he left the corridor.

"May I ask who?" the older brother asked the doctor.

"I don't know his name, but your friend always called him 'Q'...like the letter."

"They came here together?" Mycroft asked curiously.

"Yes, of course. They are a couple, aren't they?" the doctor answered and left to the operating theatre again, leaving Mycroft with his open dropping mouth alone.

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